


Test Tube, Baby! (Freedom, Maybe?)

by CookieCatSU



Series: The Bub Chronicles [1]
Category: HLVRAI - Fandom, Half-Life VR But The AI Is Self Aware
Genre: Because the Bubby we all know and love is definitely a potty mouth, Bitter!Bubby, Bubby is a feral boy, Bubby is a real human, Bubby-centric, Cheerful!Coomer, Dr. Coomer is an astrophysicist in this, Growing up in Black Mesa is tough, He can just catch on fire and came out of a tube, It's where Bubby's love of space starts, M/M, The scientists at Black Mesa taught him how to read, There are a few curse words, and speak, he tries, very normal human things
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-07-04
Updated: 2020-07-04
Packaged: 2021-03-04 17:33:52
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,262
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25050193
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/CookieCatSU/pseuds/CookieCatSU
Summary: Dr. Bubby wasn't born.Dr. Bubby was forged.-------------------He was angry, too. And maybe, possibly, head over heels in love, but that was of no real consequence.
Relationships: Bubby/Dr. Coomer (Half-Life)
Series: The Bub Chronicles [1]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1825966
Comments: 14
Kudos: 167





	Test Tube, Baby! (Freedom, Maybe?)

Dr. Bubby wasn't born. That wouldn't be an apt description.

Born, implied the process was _natural_ , and came about of its own accord. Born, implied there was some affection, some care, behind his conception (not just cold, calculating stares, clipboards and questions and syringes and tight test tubes closing in on him like a prison, inlaid with desperate claw marks trying to break through). Born, implied he had some place in the world, amongst a select group of people, who cared and accepted no matter what.

Family.

Birth, promised unconditional love. Belonging. Humanity. All of which, Bubby didn't have and never would.

Bubby wasn't born.

No. Dr. Bubby was forged.

* * *

Nothingness. Ambience.

He floats, for a long time, surrounded by empty silent suspension.

Then the fluid is draining, and he's left slumped at the bottom of the tube, live wires attached at the base of his back and shoulders, eyes blinking rapidly as they adjust to the open air. His finger unfurl, and curl, the sudden lack of resistance disorienting.

He jumps, with a little chirp, at the blotted figure staring at him through the glass (white coated and towering, with giant glowing round eyes: a monster, smiling down at him with a gaping maw).

Then the tube opens, the glass slides back, and he's able to see. The man is a scientist, a clipboard tucked under his arm, an impatient sneer playing on his lips.

"Subject 3UB3Y" The scientist calls behind him, to seemingly no one, "Currently active. Age: erm, five and a half"

The dark haired child remains, hunched in the corner of the tube, his whole universe, shivering, little hands clenched into fists.

* * *

He likes Dr. Gorgon. He was nicer than the other scientists. He didn't get frustrated, or angry, and he was always patient.

"Ah - as in Apple" He points at the picture of the fruit, crisp, clean, and red, "Say it with me, Bubs. Ah. Ah."

The little boy smiles, slowly forming his mouth around the sound, tasting it, grasping it.

"Ahhh" He says, with a little giggle.

"Exactly. Now, let's try… Apple. Repeat after me"

"Stop playing with that _thing_ , will ya?" One of the meanie scientists shouts with frustration, as he speed walks by, papers falling in his wake.

Bubs growls, fingers fisting around his green crayon. The paper next to his leg begins to smolder, the faint scent of smoke hot in his nostrils. Anger curling in his stomach.

A hand lands on his shoulder then, snatching his attention back to the man seated cross legged beside him. He looks up, to see Dr. Gorgon smiling awkwardly at him,

"It's okay, calm down. Dr. Anderson doesn't mean that, right?" A sharp look is vaulted over his head.

The other scientist sighs, "We have work to do, Gorgon"

Bubs only responds with a grumble.

* * *

People took it for granted. Freedom. Being able to go where they please, say what they please, do what they please.

"How about Mexican, on me?"

"Sounds great. There's this wonderful little place on 3rd St."

The men talk, so casually, about leaving the facility and going out to lunch, laughing together, as they go over daily reports mere feet from Bubby's tube. He watches them bitterly, through the half opaque green glass, spindly, clawed fingers pressed flush to the cool surface. Sharp teeth bared.

His gaze never leaves them, as they walk away, squinted eyes following them dutifully, until they disappear around the corner, and he can see them no longer (until they reach the door to the laboratory, where his world ends and the real world begins).

They leave like it's nothing. It is nothing, to them. Nearly all people take freedom for granted, because it is such a basic right, so integral to being _human_.

Bubby does not. He's never had it, freedom, (the word tastes sweet and delicious and bitter on his tongue, when he has the nerve to say it aloud, to let it fill the creases in his mind, the empty nothingness of the glass cage he's regulated to) and he would kill for a taste.

He presses his forehead to the glass, and slams a hand against the surface. It doesn't even crack.

Just a taste.

* * *

They release him. Bubby can't fathom why, after two and a half decades, until he's seated in front of the Director, who's sneering down at him (Bubby's taller, and angrier, so it's a great feat, even if he's half slouched in his chair).

He wants something. That fucker wants something from him.

He always does.

Bubby clenches his fist, and flicks his fingers through soaked locks of hair, stuck to his forehead.

"Ugh" Bubby hisses, "What the hell do _you_ want?"

"Would you like an opportunity to gain some… some additional space to range?"

He sits a little taller at that, eyebrow raised, "As in?"

"You get free roam of the facility, a chance to get out of that tube of yours, and we get some very valuable research" He places his chin upon steepled fingers, smile sharp, satisfied, because he knows he's got him hooked.

"Have I caught your interest?" He mutters.

And Bubby can't say no.

* * *

He's a relatively short man, with long, hazel brown hair, falling into his eyes, flowing across his shoulders like some frizzy ass waterfall.

He looks totally unkempt, with his garish, Hawaiian shirt tucked into his stark white khakis, adorned with little pink flamingos, and the obnoxious lime green tie tight around his neck. Bubby can't stop staring (because he looks like a complete dumb ass, definitely no other reason).

"I'm Dr. Coomer" The man's expression brightens at the sight of Bubby, and he rushes to shake his hand, with a bubbly laugh, "You must be my new lab partner!"

Bubby nearly chokes, eyes wide with surprise, chest burning with what was surely annoyance, face hot with indignation.

God. Not this _idiot_. And doesn't he know not to…

He yanks his hand back, wipes his palm on his cyan turtleneck with tongue between his teeth, a scoff hovering on his lips.

"Uh, yes, I am. But no touching, in the future" He gently pushes the man's still outstretched hand away, with a little grimace, as a reminder, "Or I'll be obliged to bite that hand off"

Dr. Coomer hardly blinks.

"Duly noted, my good man!" He links their arms at the elbow, totally ignoring Bubby's vapid protests, "Now, let me show you the rest of the laboratory"

* * *

"I can't leave the facility" Bubby growls out, "I'm the property of Black Mesa, Dr. Coomer"

"Property?!" Dr. Coomer exclaims indignantly, hand flying outward with bewildered belligerence, "That can't be right, Bubby!"

He curls in on himself, somewhat, looks away as far as he can. Waiting for Dr. Coomer to cast judgement, on the freak sitting in front of him.

"I know. It's unnatural, isn't it-"

"Yes! It is, because..." His expression softens, and he presses both hands to the glass now, "You're a _human being_ "

That goes against everything Bubby's ever been told, everything he's ever learned, or known; he decides to believe it, anyway, even if only for the briefest of seconds.

The other man looks so convinced of it, convinced Bubby's a real _human_ , thick eyebrows set, mouth pressed into a determined line, and… it feels so nice to dream, to give in to that fantasy (he can almost ignore the tube and the lights and the fact that he's _trapped_ like some animal).

Bubby stares for a moment, utterly mystified, before placing his own hands over Dr. Coomer's, finger by finger, palms pressed flat over his. So close: separated by nothing but an inch of glass, yet so far: separated, by that impenetrable inch of glass.

Reality sets back in.

The glass is cold as ever, but something warm flutters in Bubby's chest all the same. Dr. Coomer gazes at him with a warm expression, so fond, and the tiniest crack of a smile breaks across Bubby's face.

Just like the crack, crack, crack of the glass.

* * *

The sharp teeth frightened most people. Not Dr. Coomer, but he wasn't most people.

If anything, he finds it cute.

He's tall, his chin and his hands and his limbs all sharp edges and straight lines. His angular, jutting chin, and sharp cheekbones are handsome, as opposed to unnatural. His nose is long, curved at the bridge, comes to a sharp almost arrowhead point, and truthfully, it just makes Dr. Coomer want to reach out and boop it.

The fluorescent green light, shining through equally green glass, makes his quite frankly striking eyes appear a rather pretty teal. Coomer wonders what color they'd be, out in the open sunlight.

"Hey, bub" The definitely human, trapped within the giant test tube, the adorable human with the dark gray hair, snaps at him, leant up against the side of the tube, "Either do something useful or get lost. I'm not some attraction, so stop staring"

Dr. Coomer inches closer, He's standing there, arm thrown over his head.

"Oh, I'm sorry. I just really wanted to see you again"

"Well, you've seen plenty. Now go look starstruck someplace else" Bubby snaps, lunging at the glass, teeth bared.

Expression perfectly disgruntled.

Coomer, naturally, can't help falling in love with him.

* * *

It's just a laugh. Just a simple, silly little laugh, that curled out and crashed through him like a raging hurricane. A silly laugh, that rumbled in his ears, loud and all encompassing, so easily filling that Oh so empty darkness which Bubby had been trying to banish for years.

It's just a laugh, he tells himself, as he watches Dr. Coomer chuckle until he's wheezing, arms pressed to his sides as if he's going to burst. He presses his hand to the wall and tries not to topple over, and just laughs, eyes wet with unshed tears.

It's just a laugh, that makes him feel like his chest is constricting, and he can hardly breathe at all, and his fingertips are moments from bursting into flame, everytime he hears it. Nothing more and nothing less. Nothing at all.

Never mind that Dr. Coomer's eyes are squinted and filled with mirth, and his hand is now pressed to Bubby's shoulder, and the tall scientist's stomach is in so many knots he's certain they'll never come undone.

"Goodness, _Professor_ , I should really tell you about that other time I-"

" _Doctor_ " Bubby interrupts, automatically, still scribbling notes across his clipboard, "And I think you need a breather first"

Dr. Coomer- Harold, nods thoughtfully. "Oh yes, of course, _Professor_. You are usually right about such things"

" _Doctor_ " Bubby trills, "And I'm always right"

"Of course you are, my dearest _Professor Bubby_ "

"Oh shut up," Bubby snaps, to the fluffy haired annoyance seated beside him.

And there's that laugh again. That silly, carefree laugh.

That's when realization sets in, at the moment his face gets so warm it feels he may burst into flame, the tips of his hair smoldering.

But of course…

Bubby, naturally, could not help but fall in love with him.

That bastard.

* * *

Spaceships. Dr. Coomer told him all about spaceships, satellites and planets and galaxies ranging far as the eyes could see.

The astrophysicist tells him everything he knows about stars, which is so much, Bubby finds himself able to visualize vast universes he's never actually seen before in his minds eye, whole solar systems shining in his dreams.

He sees the bright points of light, and he wants to grasp them in his palms like fireflies, and stow them away in his pockets.

Instead, he's stuck staring at fluorescent lights, off white and glaring, hanging from the cement ceiling. His cheek is pressed to the curved surface of his desk, shoulders thrown back, expression considering. Finally,

"Space. I want to see space. It's infinite and expansive, and nothing like this fuckin' prison!"

"Then you'll see it" Dr. Coomer replies, voice unusually solemn, so very determined.

It's a shock to Bubby's system.

"I don't… whaugh?"

"I'll take you! We can steal a spaceship- my department has an influx of them- and then we'll sneak out without anyone knowing. Oh, you're going to love it, Dr. Bubby"

"Slow down! Steal…?"

Dr. Coomer nods, throwing an arm around Bubby's shoulders with a rumbling laugh, "I'm a thief!"

* * *

"Pretty, isn't it?" Coomer says, 50 years later. The stars are shining above them, glittering, as Dr. Coomer points up toward them.

Bubby nods, from his perch beside him on the grass. The wind rushes through the wispy gray hair flying around his ears, his elbows are wet with dew, and his slacks are certainly covered in grass stains. Everything around him is so huge, so vast, so infinite compared to the facility he's been trapped in all his life.

"Beautiful. Truly eye catching" And they are. Bubby finds he can't take his eyes off of them

"You know what's even prettier"

"God no. Don't-"

"You" Dr. Coomer stares dreamily, at the man with the galaxy shining in his eyes, "You're my pretty starboy"

He intertwines their fingers, without much of a thought, snatching up his hand like it's nothing, still staring at him all bright eyed. Bubby pretends not to like the contact, the attention, but truthfully, he's glowing with contentment.

Despite being a fire elemental, Bubby was always cold, and Dr. Coomer's skin was so pleasantly warm, pressed against his palm.

He looks sharply away, ignoring where they're basically attached at the wrist, "Ugh. Shut up"

He sighs softly, inhales the scent of dewy grass.

The scent of _freedom_ , truly.

**Author's Note:**

> This is my first fic for HLVRAI. I literally watched the whole series 2 days ago, and I just had to write this once I finished. Hope you enjoyed the read!


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